The Thing He Carried
by KayDrew
Summary: Jess Mariano struggles to find purpose. He didn't graduate high school. He has no home. His family is off working through their own stuff. One fateful day things change. With choices made, life will never be the same. This is based on a Tumblr post & on Tim O'Brien's 'The Things That He Carried',(he wrote an episode of 'This Is Us' too). Please enjoy! Lovely heatherfield betaed!
1. Memories

_What sticks to memory, often, are those odd little fragments that have no beginning and no end..._

Those words, those terrible, beautiful, colds words, jumped off the page. They glared. They accused. They mocked. They and their black ink on powdery white paper imprinted themselves into Jess's mind.

He hated the cruel honesty. He hated this book. No. That wasn't right. He didn't hate this book. He hated the realness, the rawness Tim O'Brien captured. He hated that the words gave him strength to move forward. He hated that he needed something to push him in a direction.

Rory's vanilla-peach scent lingered on his jacket just as her strained voice lingered in his ears and her doe-like expression haunted his memory. Nothing was the same. Nothing would ever be the same.

Moments earlier they'd had a strained conversation about class and Fran's funeral and Luke and of course prom. What was said mattered less than what wasn't shared. The stumbled pleasantries hid desires of truth. Rory wanted to know so much and Jess had no answers.

Well, he had three answers – three very painful answers that would've shook Rory to the very core and had broken Jess. One, he wasn't graduating. He couldn't graduate. He couldn't pass a damn test. Two, Luke gave him an ultimatum (months ago). He didn't keep it and he left. Three, he joined the Army. No one knew (not Liz or Luke or Lane or Lorelai); he hadn't told anyone. Hell, he'd told Luke he wanted to go to California, which was a big fat lie.

He'd lied to Luke. Day two of being here in Stars Hollow and he lied. The memory hurt as much as the cold water of that little body of water. Jess deserved it. He never held a grudge against Luke for pushing him into the lake. It was a punishment fit for the crime. He still hated he'd lied to Luke. He'd lied to Rory, too. He lied about her bracelet and her book. In the grand scheme of things they were small things that amounted to little. But, they added up. He shouldn't have done what he did.

He stole, pulled pranks, mouthed off, skipped school and was the worst possible person he could've been. He could've been a golden boy. In utter shame and disgrace, it didn't work out that way. Life never worked out the right way. Life would never work out that way - at least not for him.

They never did fancy things. They read or watched movies. They took walks. Mostly, they talked. They were the best conversations and best moments of his life, though. They added to the memories. Eating Luke's and discussing Jane Austen with Rory and Paris felt like home. For the first, and only, time everything seemed okay. Sometimes it seemed like he was still back at that kitchen table, discussing literature with those two vibrant women. Sometimes he wished Dean hadn't interrupted.

But it had ended. Dean had interrupted. Maybe in another time, another dimension, those conversations still happened. Jess liked to think so.

Out of Stars Hollow, the bus passed the park. In the distance a little bridge arched upwards. The grasses swayed amongst the trees. For a moment, he was there was Rory in that teal dress. Her hands on his hips and her lips against his lips; it was all in the name of passion. That had felt like home, too. It seemed he lied once more – to himself. In the name of those fragments and in the name of memories he'd lied.


	2. Past

_Stories are for those late hours in the night when you can't remember how you got from where you were to where you are._

Honestly, how had he ended up here? The plan seemed cut and dried – head to California, spend time on the beach helping Jimmy, and figure out life. While packing, things changed. Memories of bitter arguments returned.

 **What are you going to do?** **You can't go from couch to couch mooching off neighbors. You're not going to be a wash up. You can't get ahead being a leech. Under this roof, you're going to do something. You're going to be something.**

At least that's how Jess remembered it. Those weren't the actual words. Luke hadn't actually said all that, but that was the cold sentiment. The biting words hurt at that time and they still did. Even still, they rang true.

That had been the plan – at least for a little while. Jess hated that plan. But being lost and confused it was the only viable option. The thought of it brought shame. Sick coated his mouth, burned his throat, and tightened his stomach into a knot of no return. Sticking to that plan would've been a point of no return. Twenty, thirty, forty years from now he could've ended up a washed-up writer with nothing to his name.

In the midst of chaos, with the clothes strewn as a carpet and the walls vibrating with blaring music (to drown out hope below and the despair inside), he slouched on the floor knowing this was wrong. It was all wrong.

Leaving for California was not an option. Staying in Stars Hollow was not an option. What then? As if someone or something overheard that persistent inner-monologue, the radio blasted a commercial put out by the Army. _Do you want to do something important? Do you want to work for something bigger than yourself? Do you want a future? The Army needs YOU! Enlist today._

Generally, he tuned the words out. Those commercials were designed to entice and encourage. They sounded benign, but never seemed to have a lot of substance. They also called for attention. He didn't want to indulge in the commercial's needs. But this time Jess listened. This time they struck a chord. They gave answers.

Could he fight? Could he carry a gun? Could he be a soldier? He didn't know. Sure, he'd gotten into some fistfights, but that was in self-defense. He'd never picked up a gun – not even a shot gun. Every story about the war left him cold. A couple times he even found himself at protests. Innocent people died in battle against the malicious. But the malicious killed the innocent too. That left him even colder.

Without looking up the requirements to enlist, Jess finished packing and left for the bus stop. He didn't even say goodbye; he couldn't. He'd boarded the bus. He'd had that final talk with Rory (at least it felt like the final talk). He'd gotten off at the station and got a one-way ticket to Columbus, Georgia – to basic training at Fort Benning. He'd only known where to go by asking someone at the station.

A day later, he arrived. The welcome sign wanted to be cheery; it wasn't. Shouldering he bag, Jess walked up to the guard. "I want to enlist," he explained. The guard arched an eyebrow as if no one ever came with that request. "Ma'am."

"Bag. I.D.. Name," she demanded. After Jess turned everything over and she examined his meager bag of goods, she nodded him through. "Main office. They'll be waiting."

"Okay, ma'am," he said. Items back in his possession, Jess hiked up the incline. His feet dragged. His back ached. His shoulder stooped. He felt beaten down and warn out from life. This was the end of the road. This was it. The rug of certainty had been pulled out from under feet. Now he either would find himself standing tall or falling on his face.


	3. Okay

_All around me the options seemed to be narrowing, as if I were hurtling down a huge black funnel, the whole world squeezing in tight._

The moments outside the bureau ticked by slow and steady as if taking a painful march through an unexplored forest. Hums of the space sounded familiar, as if he were in any office. It seemed unsettled and wrong. Men and women chatted and laughed in tandem with thudded footfalls. The water cooler bubbled. Faxes and printers chugged out papers. It was too normal.

At the angle Jess sat, he couldn't read the full name on the door. From where he sat, he made out **Sergeant T. D…** and the rest burred into black squiggles. Looking at the door brought back memories of looking through Matthew's glasses; the world seemed shaded and fuzzed into nothingness. Much like that time wearing Matthew's glasses, it left Jess feeling queasy. Instead of the door, he focused on his lumpy bag settled at his feet. It wanted to fall over and would have if Jess's knees weren't propping it up.

Waiting felt unnatural. It ached his bones and gnawed at his stomach as it fought the rationale of being here. Maybe this was wrong. Maybe he should leave. Maybe the Army wasn't for him. He wasn't a fighter – not in the military sense. But here he was and leaving would make him look foolish. Still, his body wanted to go. It propelled his feet to push against the ground and raise his ass from the hard, plastic seat.

Just then the door labeled **Sergeant T. D…** opened. A young man, no more than 22-years strode out. Not what Jess expected at all. He was striking and had the air of authority, though. Blonde hair cut short and a band indent around his head, but the tight hat was nowhere to be seen. Navy slacks, striped goldenrod, with tie and a jacket to match. And oh the medals – so many medals. This was a decorated young man.

"Hello," Jess greeted as he stepped around his bag. Sure enough, it fell down, but nothing spilled out. He faltered in words. What to say? What to call this man? He couldn't even see is full name. Unsure about handshakes or saluting, his hand floundered up and down; he felt foolish.

"Sergeant Tristan Dugray," the young man interjected and offered a hand to shake as well as a slight smile that had a tinge of bemusement. "Mr. Mariano. The guards tell me you want to enlist." He nodded to his open office and headed inside.

Jess followed (with pack in hand). The room looked like any office. There was a cluttered desk with a computer as well as plentiful seating. There were bookshelves filled with binders and books. A map of the world and a calendar decorated one wall. There was even a potted palm, but it looked plastic. What a normal space. Again, he felt unnerved.

"Sit," Sergeant Dugray instructed nodding to one of the chairs in front of the desk. He moved around to the back and sat down. A wall of paperwork blocked the view line, but for then the other man kept the papers and folders in place. "Tell me why? Why do you want to enlist? We don't normally have people come walking up to the base."

Jess did not have a response. He couldn't say no. He couldn't tell Sergeant Dugray , _'I don't know'_. Those were lame words. They were weak. Being in the military meant having both strength and certainty. Those were two things Jess did not have, but he was going to fake it until he made it.

"Listen, kid," Tristan began. He leaned forward in that rolling desk chair of his and laced his fingers together. "I think you're lost. I think you don't know shit what you want to do with your life. You didn't graduate. The papers you turned in at the front gate show that. You're lost and you're scared. You feel like you need to prove yourself. I've been in the same place as you. It sucks, but I can't allow you to enlist. You have to have your diploma or your GED at the very least."

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm lost. Maybe I'm floundering. Maybe I don't know what the hell I want to do with my life. Who cares?" Jess spat. His blood boiled. This young sergeant was trying to figure him out. He was too close for comfort. " _I want to serve_. Isn't that enough? I thought the military needed soldiers. I can fight. I want to. I want to."

"Calm it, Mr. Mariano. You're speaking to an Army Sergeant. Do I need to call the guards to haul you off? I will," he warned with a steel gaze. Tristan was dead serious about his words and his position. There would be no disrespect.

"Let me enlist. Let me train. Let me fight," Jess begged.

"Mr. Mariano…"

"Don't Mr. Marino me! I need this. I need the structure. I need something because I don't have anything. The girl of my dreams doesn't want me. She's out there conquering her dreams. My uncle doesn't want me. He made it damn clear I wasn't allowed to live with him if I didn't graduate. You know what, I didn't graduate! So I have no home. The only car I ever had is busted beyond repair. My own mother filled our trailer with love, but used to forget to buy groceries when I was growing up and she's still that flakey. Not to mention my own father. He can't even manage a pickle booth!"

"Okay. Okay. Get a diploma and I will approve your enlistment. Okay?"

It took several seconds for the agreement to sink again. After the first word, Jess's mouth flew open ready for round three. Fight or flight in full force. Hands pressed on the desk and butt lifted from seat, he was ready. But Tristan's softer 'okay' struck a chord. Falling back down onto seat, Jess nodded.

" _Okay."_


	4. Thanksgiving

_It was very sad, he thought. The things men carried inside. The things men did or felt they had to do._

A few weeks passed from that trip to Yale and his meeting with Tristan. Jess stayed away from Stars Hollow. He didn't go to California. He didn't head to any big city, either (although that had been a plan). Jess stuck close to Columbus and he studied. He studied and he studied and he studied until his brain felt overflowing. Even still, Jess was unsure if he'd pass the GED. Those practice tests were hard. Didn't that mean the real thing would be harder? He didn't want to think about it. He couldn't think about it. If and when he did (which happened more times than Jess would ever care to admit), he panicked.

Heart racing, he stared at the text before him as he rode the bus back into Stars Hollow. The dark letters bounced on the off white paper as if they had a mind of their own (or maybe they became alive whenever Jess read them). Blinking once or twice helped everything focus on a paragraph – two if he was lucky. He fiddled with a pencil while working. Fingers itched to mark up the pages. That helped with focusing. That helped with retention. He couldn't do that this time, though. This study guide wasn't his; it came from the library.

 _I should probably check out a copy of On the Road. It's been a while since I read that. I wonder what Jack's up to. Not Kerouac. That… that Jack. Jack from Wal-Mart. I liked him well enough. Wait, what was I reading?_

Jess's thoughts buzzed while trying to focus. The more he stared. The more he worked, the louder the buzz got. He still tried. Blinking a couple of times, Jess stared at the questions. A, B, C, or D – which was it? None of the answers fit. But that might be because he skipped the passage and went straight for the multiple choices. It wasn't like skipping came with deliberation. It just happened. Focusing was the game, but it was a game generally lost.

The bus pulled to a stop. Wheels almost screeched. The hydraulics bounced. People departed and so did Jess. He tucked the book into his bag, feeling a bit of nostalgia standing there. Everything looked much like the first time arriving to Stars Hollow. Houses and their yards were pristine as if out of a magazine spread. Park bench looked warn and full of history. Trees stood guard and crowded the sidewalks, but unlike his first arrival no leaves on them. There was one glaring difference - Luke wasn't there to greet him.

He trudged the two blocks to the diner. Seeming to know what happened, people stared. A few people offered a wave. With a bit of fright (like a deer in headlights), Taylor gawked at him before turning tail and heading back the way he'd started. Jess rolled his eyes while shoving his test prep book into his backpack.

On the stoop, Jess peered passed the 'Sorry, we're closed' sign. Luke and Lorelai argued as Lorelai brandished a flower bouquet and Liz carried a basket of rolls downstairs. Tables were pushed together and decorated with gauzy tapestry-printed fabric, porcelain plates, plastic tumblers, and silverware. TJ sat off watching something on a tiny, square TV while nursing a can of beer. Having put the rolls down on the counter, Liz was about to head back upstairs to get something else (cranberries or potatoes or something), when she saw Jess and waved with as much enthusiasm as a kid at an amusement park.

 _Here goes nothing._ Jess heaved a deep breath, enough to puff his chest out. Releasing it as he opened the diner's door, he plastered on a smile just as Liz smothered him with a hug and kiss.

"Look at you. Look at you. Luke, look at him. He looks good. Doesn't he look good? TJ doesn't Jess look good?" Liz gushed as she ran a hand over Jess's hair. "Just look at you! California's treating you so good."

Jess shrugged Liz off. He smoothed down his hair. It took a while to get it just right. That was all so awkward. How to get through this Thanksgiving dinner without revealing the plan? If there was such a thing as a million-dollar question, that would be it.

"Liz, come on. Give the boy a chance to wash his hands. He's been on a bus for hours. Probably been flirting with some outta town folks with pretty hair and bubbly laughter and big books like you read," TJ cautioned and for once Jess was happy he spoke up. "Ain't that right? Outta town folks are always the best to flirt with."

"No one," Jess mumbled as he fiddled with the strap of his back. "I didn't meet anyone. I didn't talk to anyone." Talking to people riding the bus wasn't his thing. Talking, in general, wasn't his thing. He'd rather listen. People would rather talk. This time though Jess just stuck his nose in a book and every bus rider left him alone.

"You sure? Outta town folks are the best to fall in love with. It's why I fell in love with Liz. She's an outta town woman. I'm an outta town guy. We're… outta town people."

"Can we please stop saying 'outta town'?" Luke grumbled from behind the counter. Back arched, only the top of Luke's blue baseball cap and a bit of the green and red plaid flannel overshirt was in sight.

"Thank you." He breathed the word out while heading upstairs to drop his bag off and wash his hands. Staying in Stars Hallow would not last for very long – overnight at best. Saturday marked GED day. It was a make or break moment. Pass and boot camp awaited. Fail and it was back to square one. The latter option would not, could not, be an option.

How could he even tell his family this plan? They would not understand. They would try to talk him out of going. They would warn him it would be dangerous. They would claim this wasn't him. But it was. It really was. He saw reports about what was happening to innocent victims. The women deserved to go to school. The kids deserved to be kids. It wasn't fair. Jess might not agree with the current President, but he sure didn't agree with the subhuman conditions. So he was going to fight for them and for freedom (for their freedom).

Scrubbing his hands and rinsing them thoroughly, he splashed water on his face. The bus ride had left him feeling grimy and sweaty. Rinsing off did little to help. Towel in hand, Jess dried off his face and his hands before heading back downstairs.

"I don't have a damn vase. I don't need a vase! I don't keep or get flowers!" Luke shouted as he poured leftover tea into six glasses from a glass pitcher. Rinsing the pitcher out several times, Luke filled it with water and brought it over to Lorelai. "Happy now!?"

A broad smile spread over Lorelai's face as she nodded. Putting the flowers in the makeshift vase, she placed them on the table as Luke delivered the glasses of tea to each place setting. So far things seemed to be okay – at least from Jess's prerogative.

Liz, who'd gone upstairs was carrying down the turkey. "Dinner's ready. At least I think it is. The whole kitchen was filling up with smoke and the timer was going off," Liz chirped. At the horror-struck expression of Luke's face, she added in a haste. "Kidding. Kidding. No smoke. Just the time. It's fine big brother. Don't worry. Sit. Sit."

Soon everything was on the table. It looked great. Actually, it looked more than great. Everyone was sitting at their designated spots. One seat was empty. "Shouldn't we wait for Rory?" Jess asked. He couldn't help it. He didn't want her losing out on the stuffing or the potatoes; he knew how much she loved both of those things.

"Oh, she's coming. Just stuck in traffic," Lorelai said. While speaking she glanced towards Luke and gave him a _look_ in hopes that Jess wouldn't notice. Jess noticed. He pretended not to notice.

"So, I guess we should start by giving thanks?" Liz interjected. Apparently, she felt the awkward tension just as much as Jess did. Sometimes Jess was thankful his mom couldn't stand silence. "I'll start! Um, let's see… I'm thankful to all of you, my beautiful family. I wouldn't be who I was without you. Lorelai?"

"Gravity. I'm thankful for gravity. Without it, we'd be flying in outer space and I look horrible in those giant space suits. I tried one on in Jr. High during a class trip. It just was all baggy and shapeless. Ugg…. Luke?"

"I guess I'm thankful we're not living a thousand years in the past where the water could kill you and the food could kill you and the air could kill you."

"Well aren't we festive this afternoon," Rory called from the entrance. The door was open and she stood there in her pea coat and skinny jeans and a scarf. "Sorry I'm late. The traffic was bumper to bumper." Plopping her overnight bag down beside the coat rack, she closed the door and took offer her autumn gear (which she hung on the coat rack). After she went and washed her hands, Rory took her place at the table.

"Where were we? Oh yeah, the world could kill you in distant past. TJ, go ahead," Lorelai instructed. Apparently, Lorelai was ready to eat.

"Huh? Oh, well. Gee, I don't know. I guess I'm thankful for football and uh… bugs… like bees and butterflies because without them we wouldn't have flowers and I kinda like flowers. Jess, I guess you can go next."

Jess shrugged. He honestly didn't know what he was thankful for. Nothing really was going right in his world right now. The future was so unresolved. Could that GED get passed? Could the military be in the future? Could life be okay after military life? Everything seemed so up in the air. "I guess I'm thankful for freedom. Freedom to think. Freedom to live. Freedom to protect. Uh, Rory?"

"I'm thankful for my mom, but she already knew that, and I'm thankful for all the women before us who have paved the way for life now."

"Cheers to that! Let's eat," Lorelai called. Her voice sounded strained as if she was trying not to cry. Clearing her throat, she took a sip of tea and filled her plates. Everyone filled their plates.

It was late when they stopped dinner. The sun had long set. Liz and Lorelai were working on dishes. TJ was watching football. Rory was covering leftovers. Jess was prepping to leave.

"You sure you don't want to stay the night?" Luke asked as the two men stood at the door. "You can you know. It's late. It's not safe to be outright about now."

Jess bit his tongue. He wanted to snap back about how Luke had kicked him out of the house. He wanted to snap about how he did not belong here. "I'm sure," came the reply as he shouldered his bag.

"Are you okay, Jess? You seem… distant. It's like you're here but your mind's a million miles away," Luke asked, grabbing hold of Jess's arm and studying his nephew. If looks could pry Luke's could find every answer.

"I'm fine. I'll see you when I see you."


	5. Possibilities

_A lot like yesterday, a lot like never._

After weeks of studying, Jess found himself in a dimly lit basement room. The space felt smaller than in actuality. Bookshelves, heavy with textbooks; dry erase board, marred by permanent ink scribbles; industrial filing cabinets, with magnets covering much of its magnetic surface; a hefty wooden desk, that looked like it was out of "Welcome Back Kotter"; and two rows of fold-up tables with chairs only further cramped the space.

A few test takers already sat in their seats. In front of each person lay a squat, square blue notebook (held together by two staples if Jess knew better), two #2 pencils, a basic calculator, and the printed exam (printed on white printer paper, no less). Some had a bottle of water while others had to-go cups of coffee. All sat in silence. All sat in preparation for the GED.

Approaching the desk, Jess found himself face-to-face with a jolly-looking man in his fifties. Slightly portly and tanned, he resembled a hippie Santa Claus. The graying beard and hair in a ponytail cemented that visual. "Hello, there! Welcome to the test. I'm not Ms. Miller, even if the nameplate says it," he greeted.

"I can tell," Jess mumbled, looking at the little block of wood embellished by a brass plaque labeled 'Ms. Miller'. His tone came flat. "I'm Jess Mariano."

"Mariano… Mariano…. Hmm…. Another Miller…. Here you are," the hippie Santa Claus said, tapping his pencil against the name once he found it. With a flourish, he put a check by Jess's name. Roll call was done for now. "Take one of each. Except for the pencils, you can take two."

"Got it," Jess replied. He picked a couple of sharpened pencils before gathering the test supplies in his arms. "Anything else I need to know?"

"Test'll start in fifteen minutes. A couple more people should be here. You'll have seven hours to take it and there will be two short breaks in-between," he pretty much recited (it sounded rehearsed). "I'm Mason Hayes. Raise your hand if you need anything."

"Great."

"And listen, Jess, you can do this. You will be fine. You know this stuff."

"Whatever you say, boss."

Choosing a seat in the very back, he slipped into the metal fold-out seat. Placing the supplies on the table before him, Jess sat and waited. With his feet stretched out under the table so that the tips of his boots peeked out the other side and his fingers laced together he tried to look calm and collected even if it felt like a hundred motorcycles were running circles around his stomach.

Several more people came in. Mr. Hayes said something to each of them as they all took their supplies. Standing from the desk, he put a 'do not disturb' sign on the door and closed it. This signaled that the test could begin.

Opening the exam, Jess studied the passage before him,

Frankenstein is a classic example of a morality tale. It is graphic and heartbreaking and horrific. It shows the conflict of man and the desire to create. Dr. Frankenstein found himself driven insane by his obsession to play God and to create life. In his quest, he forgets his family and future generations Dr. Frankenstein could conceive with Elizabeth. The future does not matter. It is the now that drives him forward. Bringing the Monster to life destroys village. The actions of the scientist results in multiple murders, destroyed properties, and shattered psyches. This is a good versus evil story. Frankenstein's Monster is to be the villain. His mind and (some of) his body came from criminals. Even before he is 'born, the Monster is doomed to be the villain. His fate is sealed. Dr. Frankenstein is supposed to be the hero. Realizing the destruction he created results in a quest to destroy the creature and bring harmony back into the world.

But really, who is the villain of this story? The Monster did not ask to be created and 'born'. When he is born, he has a sliver of hope that is quickly dashed by Fritz. Fritz does not take the time or care to treat the Monster with kindness or respect. He abuses and torments the creation. Dr. Frankenstein allows it. No one attempts to teach him how to behave or how to react to the world around him. Subconsciously, they view the Monster as less than human. The one time Frankenstein's Monster is treated with kindness is with Maria. She sees his humanity, thus offers her friendship. Yet, this interaction is doomed. The creature does not know what to do when their game is done and he reacts in the worst, most horrific way. Frankenstein is nothing but conflict. There is conflict between countless groups. Dr. Frankenstein and his professor argue. Elizabeth and the Baron quarrel. The villagers and the Monster battle until the grisly end. There is also internal conflict of needing love and acceptance and not getting it (particularly for the Monster).

He read and reread the multiple-choice questions in attempts to answer them. The words blended and merged. The letters faded in and out as they jumbled. Towards the end of the reading section, he found himself completely frustrating. With math and social science, Jess guessed. The only section that came easier was the writing portion.

 _Who is the most important person you've met?_ That was the question presented. He knew that answer and so Jess wrote fast and furious. Penmanship messy, Jess couldn't help but raise a hand. Mr. Hayes came over within moments. "May I have another book? I messed up," Jess whispered, holding up the blue book he'd been writing in. "I need to copy it neater."

"Sure, if you have time. There's fifteen minutes left."

A nod signaled the answer. Mr. Hayes got the book and placed it in front of Jess. Jess wrote fast and furious. There were two sentences left, but time ran out. That was okay. They hadn't added much anyway. He handed in the exam and supplies before tearing the original in pieces. "Thanks," Jess said, leaving with the group.

Two days later he checked his email. He passed. Everything was going to be okay.


	6. Bootcamp

_What stories can do, I guess, is make things present._

Soon after passing, he called and set up a time to meet at the Military Entrance Processing Station (MEPS). Two days from this date they told him over the phone. They told him to wear basic clothes, no piercings, and his glasses or contacts if he had them (he didn't have them). They told him to bring the GED results, his birth certificate, and social security card. Once the day came, Jess arrived. More instructions were waiting for his ears and eyes. There was (another) multiple choice test akin to the GED. After the never-ending test, which Jess could only hope he passed, came the general physical exam. The last couple hours where he had his hear and vision tested; flexibility and strength challenged; blood drawn and urine sampled; and general stats (BP, weight, height) seemed like the easiest portion of the day.

Exhausted from the mental and physical excursions, Jess grabbed a tray from the lunch line. He had a half of an hour before another meeting. Staring at the burger, fries, broccoli with cheese, plastic-wrapped brownie square, apple, and milk carton he couldn't believe how much this felt like school. He also couldn't believe how many tests it took to get into basic training. It was a whirlwind of activity. Part of him was excited. Part of him was nervous. Either way, he felt like he was on a roller coaster where the floor dropped away so he was free falling.

The half-hour was over. Getting up, he dumped all the trash into the trash can, excluding the brownie and apple. Neither got eaten so he slipped them into his pocket and headed to the next stop. Somehow he managed to pass everything and take the oath of enlistment.

Standing before Sergeant Tristan Dugray, Jess recited the oath. It went in part, "I, Jess Mariano, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend…." Jess echoed the words that Sergeant Dugray said in a level and quiet tone. At times he wasn't sure they came out clear enough, but apparently Tristan didn't mind. It was good enough.

"Come on, Junior. You'll be bunking here tonight and then ship off to boot camp at O seven hundred. Breakfast is at O six hundred. I suggest getting there early unless you want left with the dregs," Tristan said, walking forward with his hands behind his back.

"Got it."

Tristan whirled on his feet to face Jess. A stern glare crossed his features. Brown was furrowed. Lips were pursed. "What did you said, Junior?" he snapped.

"Got it, sir. Yes, sir."

"Remember this. No disrespecting anyone at any time of your service. Your ass will be thrown in KP so fast that you won't have time to blink. Ever peel a thousand potatoes in a day, Junior?"

"No sir."

"Do you want to find out?"

"Not really, sir."

"Good. Here are the showers. Across the way is your bunch. Choose whichever bed you want, as long as no one's sleeping in it. See you tomorrow. Rest up."

"Yes, sir."

"You're catching on real quick," Tristan said with a grin and a wink. Turning around, Sergeant Dugray headed back in the same direction, leaving Jess alone in the hallway. For a moment, everything was quiet. It was the first quiet in days and it was unsettling. The eerie moment passed when soldiers barreled from their bunkrooms and charged the bathroom.

Jess didn't enter with the other men. Instead, he went to where they were – one of the bunkrooms. There were about twenty or twenty-one bunks in this industrial space. Wandering the aisles of bunk beds he searched for a place to toss his bag (and then sleep) before showering up. At the very back, there was a bed with nothing on it. The sheets and blanket were pristine. This would be his place for the night. Allowing the bag to hit the mattress with certain heaviness, Jess dug into it and grabbed his flannel draw-string pants and a t-shirt as well as his toothbrush and toothpaste. Peering into his sack of stuff he realized he forgot to pack shampoo. Maybe there'll be a leftover bottle in the shower.

Back in the shower room, he walked to the end of the line much as he did in the bunkroom. The last stall was empty. On the wall were a considerable amount of towel racks and towels. Dropping his clothes under the towels, Jess stripped and got into the shower. He was out in five minutes. He was in his flannel pants and t-shirt in fifteen minutes.

Back at the bunks, Jess stashed all his stuff away under the bed. While exhausted from the day, he couldn't sleep. For a good while tossing and turning was all he could do. But eventually sleep took over and it took over until dawn. There was no way to oversleep here in the bunks. All the men were up and chatting while dressing so as to go to breakfast. Jess followed the lead. He got up, dressed, and marched off to the mess hall with everyone else.

After a quick breakfast of eggs, bacon, and hash browns, Jess found himself on a bus. They drove for a couple of hours until they reached their boot camp base. It was organized the chaos on the bus. All the men and women joked and laughed and even sung. Jess tried to join in, but when he tried to sing 'Come as You Are' with the busload of soldiers they all threw wads of paper at him. He grabbed one or two wads and threw them back. This caused a roar of laughter.

Soon they were there and it was just chaos. They filled out papers. They got fatigues, a backpack, and a ton of supplies. Ordered to go change and be back in fifteen minutes, the Juniors hurried off to the barracks. Dirty clothes flew everywhere as the men stripped and put on their uniform. Back in the yard, they were inspected. "Welcome to camp, Privates," their Corporal greeted. Apparently once in actual boot camp, they were promoted from Junior to Private. "Do a twenty-mile run and then lunch!"

Jess was pretty sure he was going to lose a body part by the time lunch came around, His legs and lungs burned. Never before had he been so grateful to sit down and eat. The meal, which he didn't even notice, was over fast and they were back to work until dinner.

After dinner came showers and bed. Lying about was a challenge. Sleep would not be coming yet. Rolling to the side of the bunk, he grabbed his bag and opened it up. Fishing around the sack he found his (new) notebook and a pen.

Knees drawn up to make a makeshift table, Jess quickly scrawled 'The Subset' at the top of the page before starting on the first paragraph. He hadn't a clue what this story was about or what it would be about. The words just came to mind. Pen flew across the paper as if it had a mind of its own.

 _This story is not what you think it is. This story might be about everything or it might be about nothing at all. The story might be about you. This story might be about me. This story might be about no one. Whatever it is and whoever it is about, one thing is for sure – this is a story._

"Hey, Private whatcha doin'? We got the next Rowling on our hands?"Jess's bunkmate called from the top bunk before leaping down into a crouching position beside the bunk.

"More like Kerouac."

"Can I read it?"

"No."

"Come on. I won't steal. I know how you writers can get. My sis is one."

"I told you, no," Jess growled, getting off his bunk. He tossed the notebook and pen on the bed. "I just started. I don't even know what it's about yet. So, no."

"What did you say Shouldn't it be 'No, sir'? You know that's how it is, here. Right? It's all sir and ma'ams until you retire."

"Oye, Reed, I bet it's a love story. Ain't that right, Mariano? It's a love letter to your Bae?" a nearby Private taunted. "Missing your beloved, huh?"

"Guys, leave me the hell alone. I don't want trouble."

"Well, it sure looks like you're making it," Reed growled, pushing Mariano. It seemed he was as tired as Jess and it seemed tiredness brought out irritability.

Jess pushed back. They went back and forth like this until Reed tackled him. The two men were rolling around. The rest of the Privates gathered around and watched just as high schoolers did on tv shows. Reed and Jess fought until their Corporal and a Sergeant pulled them apart.

"He started it, Sir," Jess mumbled, straightening his uniform. He stared at the ground. Would this be the end of his military career? That felt about right. Ending something before it really began. Neither men were physically hurt. Their egos might have been though.

"I don't care. On top of basic training, you two are assigned bathroom duty. Every bathroom in this camp better be shining by the time you're deployed. Now, get to bed."

"Sir, yes, sir," Jess and Reed shout. The Corporal and the Sergeant leave. The Privates headed back to their bunks. That wasn't as bad of an outcome as Jess thought it would be. Maybe things were looking up.


	7. Christmas

_What sticks to memory, often, are those odd little fragments that have no beginning and no end..._

The weeks went by in a flash. The hours were exhausting and grueling. The hours spent training was longer than Jess could ever imagine. Up at four-thirty every morning to shower, exercise, and eat breakfast. Then training until a one o'clock lunch and soon back onto the grounds for more exercise. After supper came a bit more training or exercise and then another shower and bed. This was the schedule for weeks on end. Much to Jess's surprise, he slipped into this life with relative ease.

That wasn't the only change noted. His body filled out. Muscles formed. Eyes softened. Hair and clothes always tidy. Face shaved. He looked like an adult. Mind and soul were calmer. Life seemed focused. He felt like an adult.

While he hid his plans during Thanksgiving, there'd be no hiding them this snowy Christmas. Not only did he look different, but he was going away – far away. Right before this short Christmas break, he and his fellow Privates were informed of deployment in mid-February (a mere week after basic training would complete). He would have to tell them about everything. That conversation would be hard.

The bus pulled up to his Stars Hallow stop. He shouldered his bag and hiked through the snow. People stared. They saluted? Yeah, they saluted. No wonder. He was in his uniform. He walked differently. He walked with a soldier's determined gait.

He dropped his stuff off at Luke's Diner before heading over to the Gilmore residence. He'd talked to Liz the other day and she'd told him to head there once back in Stars Hallow. It was a quick walk from the diner to the home; just a few blocks. Really, it was no wonder Rory and Lorelai ate there so often. The home was so close to the diner that he arrived a good five minutes earlier than he anticipated.

There were a lot of cars here. Luke's truck, Rory's car, Lorelai's Jeep (of course), and three unfamiliar cars were all parked in the yard. Never before had Jess seen the yard so crowded with so many vehicles. Jess was like the walking version of a Tim O'Brien's quote. _But the thing about remembering is that you don't forget._ He didn't forget.

Once on the porch, Jess could hear arguing coming from inside. He stopped dead in his tracks and listened. He couldn't help but listen. Even if he wanted to ignore the words, it would be impossible. Most things were as clear as if Jess was in the room.

"Where the hell is he, Liz? Luke? Where is my son? Are you keeping him from me?" Jimmy's words came out with disgust.

"He's with you! He's supposed to be with you, Jimmy!" Liz sounded desperate, if not frantic.

"Maybe it's a good thing he's not with you, Jimmy. It took you all this time to realize your own son wasn't with you." That was Luke; Luke's tone was furious.

"Well right back at you!" Jimmy shouted those words.

"Hey, guys, this is Jess we're talking about. He does what he wants. He goes where he wants. I'm sure he's fine." Lorelai seemed to be trying to instill hope, but it likely didn't work.

"Lorelai is right. From what I can gather this boy can take care of himself." Richard Gilmore was defending both him and his daughter – that came as a surprise as Jess hadn't thought he'd made a good impression.

"Oh Richard, don't be so naive! He's barely nineteen. He needs parental care. He's still practically a child." Emily chose to try inject some sort of common sense, but it seemed to fall onto deaf ears.

"He can take care of himself. Can we not talk about him? It's not fair to him." In the yelling, Rory's soft voice sounded like a whisper.

"Why can't we just go eat ham?" Those words from TJ made Jess laugh, but no one else.

The yelling got louder. Okay, this was enough. He opened the door. "Hey! Guys, stop it! It's Christmas," Jess shouted, closing the door closed.

Everyone stopped yelling. Everyone may have stopped breathing for a second; there was an audible gasp and then nothing. Everyone stared.

Luke broke the silence. He stepped forward. His mouth was agape, but he managed to stammer out a few words. "Jess? What the hell?"

"Luke, I think you very well know what's going on. You should so the boy some respect. Let him explain," Richard interjected, standing a little taller in Jess's presence. "Go on."

"I didn't go to California. Jimmy, I couldn't. You never were in my life growing up. You disappointed me time and time and time again, so I couldn't go off to someplace I didn't know. I knew I wouldn't fit in there," Jess began. His hands went behind him and rested on his back. He stood with his feet planted hip-width apart. "But I didn't know what to do?"

"So you thought joining the military was the right thing to do? Jess, what are you thinking?" Rory squeaked. She stepped forward. Her eyes were wide. Her thin frame shook with fear.

"Yeah, Rory," Jess replied. "I did. I had nothing. I had no home. I had no diploma. I didn't graduate high school. I didn't have a future. Seeing a commercial to enlist, I went and check out what I had to do. I got my GED and passed a physical. I got in. For the first time in a long time I have purpose."

"Why?"

"Rory? What?"

"Why the Army? Why now?"

"Maybe there's a world out there in need of help. Maybe there's women and kids who need protecting. Maybe I've realized life is more than just my little orbit."

"Couldn't you have joined the Peace Corps or became a firefighter or….or anything? What if you get deployed? What if you get hurt?"

"I'll deal with it when I get over there. I **am** getting deployed," Jess said. Each word came cold, determined, and defiant. No one was going to question him about his choices, especially not Rory. She had everything and the world. He had this and only this. Part of his mind understood why she fought back. She was scared. He was scared. But this was something to see through until the end.

"When do you go?" Luke asked. It seemed he still could hardly say a word. Only short sentences were coming from his uncle's lips.

"Mid-February."

"Okay."

"This is not okay."

"Rory…."

"Grandpa, this is not okay!"


	8. Chaos

_A thing may happen and be a total lie; another thing may not happen and be truer than the truth._

Jess left the house after that argument. He couldn't face any of them. The only one who seemed to understand was the eldest Gilmore. Richard stood up for him. None of the other did. He couldn't believe it. He spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day in a hotel, writing the Subset.

 _She looked like a storm. Dressed all in grays and wearing make up to match, she was an opposing figure. When she came into the room, she made her presence known. He loved her for it. He loved her for everything. But he feared her. No, that's not right. He didn't fear her. He feared hurting her._

That was but one paragraph. He kept working. On the bus ride back to the camp he wrote. In the camp he wrote during breaks and before bed. It was turning into something glorious – at least he hoped so. He wrote on the plane overseas. He even wrote once settled into their tents.

"You scared?" Reed asked.

"No, Sir. I'm not." Jess replied, shrugging a bit. What more could he say? Could he really show that fear? His fellow soldiers needed to believe he was brave. Bravery created trust.

"Call me Reed, Sir," Reed asked. It was a surprising request, but the two men had gotten close in the last few months. They were almost friends in fact.

"Call me Jess," Jess instructed. Reed might as well use his name if Reed wanted Jess to use his name when they were around each other.

"Okay, Jess. You scared?" Reed asked, checking his gun and making sure it was clean enough. He honestly didn't seem so sure about it."

"Nope."

"Lair."

"Yeah."

The two men laugh. They were both horrible liars. They didn't lie normally, but both Reed and Jess wanted to make sure the other was not worrying. It was clear both men wanted each other to focus on the mission coming up. They had to or risk chaos.

They went out the battlefield the next morning. Jess stared at all these men and women. They were all scared. They were all connected by that fear. They were all connected by that determination. They would fight. They would win. They might die in the process, but they would win in the end. They would protect and serve. It did not matter who these people were. It didn't matter their gender or their sexuality or their political affiliation or whatever religion they practiced (if any). They were a group. They were one.

 _They carried all they could bear, and then some, including a silent awe for the terrible power of the things they carried._

They all fought. Around Jess, men and women shot at the enemy. Around Jess, men and women fell as they were shot by the enemy. Screams filled his ears. The boom of guns and whizzing of the bullets rang in his ears.

Reed called out a warning. It was too late. Jess looked down as he was blown back. He didn't even stay awake long enough to remember hitting the ground. He didn't remember being transported off the field. He didn't remember the hasty stabilizing surgery. He didn't remember being flown to Germany and then to the States. But he remembered the dreams. They were terrifying and hopeful and confusing dreams that seemed to meld memories with fiction.

A month passed from the attack to now. He'd been through surgeries. He'd been through therapy – psychical, vocational, speech, and psychiatric. The event had been traumatic. The hospital wanted a holistic process. War was hard. Learning everything again was harder.

He was practicing writing. A phrase stuck in his mind so he wrote that. _The thing about a story is that you dream it as you tell it, hoping that others might then dream along with you…_ It wasn't his writing. It was clunky and blurry. The letters didn't look right. But it was readable.

"Why don't we take a break? It looks like you got a visitor," she said, standing up and patting Jess on the shoulder. She smiled at Rory, but left without saying a word to her.

"Hey. You…um… you look like crap," Rory blurted as she placed her purse on the table. She stepped forward so as to be right in front of Jess.

"Yeah, well. I figured," Jess retorted, trying to be cool and casual. It probably did not come off that way, but that didn't matter. Nothing really mattered except that he'd lived. Anything else would be small beans compared to this whole situation.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"No. You have nothing to be sorry for. I was a jerk. When I heard you were attacked. I was afraid. I was afraid I'd never see you again. I was afraid our fight was the last thing we ever said to each other."

"It's not though."

"No. It's not. But I can't stop the what ifs from playing in my mind. Jess, I love you," she blurted. Rory stooped. She rested her hand on his chin. She traced his bruised jaw line and listened to the monitors and IV's beeping.

"I love you, too."

"Don't leave me again," Rory demanded, leaning forward and planting a kiss on his lips. She did it with all the love and care as possible. She continued to trace his face with her figners as she did so.

After Jess returned the kiss, he whispered, "I don't plan on it." He looked her in the eyes and smiled. He may be hurt and hurting, but it was okay. He could take this pain. He was alive. Some days it didn't feel like it. Around Rory he was sure. Around Rory he knew everything would be okay. Around Rory he felt anything was possible. It was kind of amazing. Rory was kind of amazing. Together, he felt, they were kind of amazing.

"Okay."

"Okay."

 _But this too is true: stories can save us._

The End


End file.
